Nothing Like the Present
by blackwolfmajik
Summary: Fluffy little bit for all of those who might have imagined what the Painted Skyball was for.


AN: I've always had a fascination with the Skyball gift - in fact, I refuse to give it to anyone because I want it for myself.  
Sadly, I haven't been able to find much/any info or history on the little thing, so I've had to dream up my own.  
Sorry if this is a little rough, I didn't beta it.

*insert default disclaimer about not owning anything other than my cat*

----oOo----

**Nothing like the Present**

She sat by the fire, playing with the speckled rock they had found earlier in the Brecilian Forest. Alistair watched for a time before his curiosity got the better of him.

"What is that little thing anyway? You seemed…pleased to find it."

His voice startled her, but she smiled and motioned for him to sit closer. "It's a Skyball."

Seeing his lack of recognition at the name, she held the small orb up to give him a better look. "Do you see the little dots? They match the patterns of the stars." She twisted the ball around and held it up to the horizon. "See this?"

"That looks like--!"

She smiled. "Exactly. Skyballs are used to track the stars and tell you what time of year it is. The more complex the Skyball, the more accurate you can trace the date."

"The date? Like on a calendar: months and holidays?"

She nodded. "We had a beautiful Skyball on the top of Castle Cousland, made of blown glass and gold wires. Father had it commissioned in Tevinter." Her voice trembled for a moment and she paused to gather herself before continuing. "Scribe Aldous taught me how to use it, how to read the alignments and know when my birthday was."

Alistair wrapped his arm around her, offering what comfort he could. Hoping to distract her, he asked: "So, when is your birthday?"

She flicked him a wry glance before frowning at the little orb. "This skyball is pretty simple, so it's not going to be very accurate, but…my guess is: four months. Give or take."

"Ah," Alistair filed the information away, feeling strangely blessed that she would actually tell him.

"When is your birthday?"

"What?" he squeaked in surprise.

"I told you mine, when is _your_ birthday?"

"Uh…I'm not sure actually." Alistair squirmed uncomfortably; birthdays had little meaning for a forgotten bastard living in a stable. "Arl Eamon would tell the kitchens to bake me a pie a few days or so before Summerday, maybe that's it? It's as good a day as any, I suppose." He cocked his head to the side, a lofty expression tipping his nose into the air. "Plus, since everyone is already celebrating, they might as well celebrate my birthday too."

She snickered in the most unladylike way, but lifted the skyball to the horizon again. As she calculated the date in her head, her tongue crept out over her lip, soft and pink. Suddenly Alistair wondered when the night had gotten so much warmer.

"A month and a half, I think?" The unsure wrinkle of her brow was adorable, but he didn't think she would appreciate the observation.

"Sounds good to me," he said with a smile.

----oOo----

Weeks of Darkspawn and miles of travel washed the conversation from his mind, making it a surprise when she stood blushing in front of him with a small package.

"It's your birthday. I…I got you something…"

"I, uh…oh!" Alistair stood dumbfounded as she plopped the box into his startled hands. "You remembered?"

She frowned. "Of course."

"It's just…I'm not used to…people listening to me."

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Oh, ha ha," but her mischievous smirk warmed the ex-templar to his toes.

He carefully unwrapped the package and gasped.

"Do you like it?" she shifted her weight nervously, spots of pink on her cheeks.

Alistair carefully lifted the carved golem doll from its nest of wood shavings, not trusting himself to speak.

She gnawed on her lip, "I remembered you saying something about having one when we were in the mage shop in Denerim. I know it's not the same, but--"

Any further conversation was stalled when Alistair snatched her into a crushing hug.

"I love it," he whispered into her hair, willing his heart into his voice.

Her face was scarlet when he reluctantly let her go. He took comfort in the fact that she couldn't seem to stop the silly grin that matched his.

"Heh, well…don't let Shale see it…"


End file.
